


Limelight burns

by To_create_a_new_user_name_is_hard



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Angry Harry, Clubbing, Comfort/Angst, Crying Louis, Daddy Zayn, Domestic Fluff, Drug Abuse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Jealous Harry, Jealousy, Light Angst, Light Swearing, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mild Smut, Molestation, Old Friends, POV Third Person Omniscient, Police Procedural, Reality, Reunion, Sad Louis, Sassy Louis, Sick Harry, Triggers, Vomiting, but i did my research, dream - Freeform, flash back, involuntary drug use, live concert, louis and harry have a quarrel, more tags will follow when I post new chapters, non-au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_create_a_new_user_name_is_hard/pseuds/To_create_a_new_user_name_is_hard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry isn’t feeling well during a concert but Louis is ignoring him because they just had a fight and they're both angry with each other. However, their hurt feelings become unimportant when Harry’s condition rapidly deteriorates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not As Planned

„Five more minutes!“  Screamed an unrecognisable voice from somewhere around the corner.

Harry was unusually quiet, even apathetic. Niall noticed first when he jump up to him, dancing around him and Harry just stood there, giving him a _oh-god-will-you-please-just-stop?!_ look. That’s unlike Harry. Normally, Harry would never leave out an opportunity to dance and be silly with his best pal Niall.

“Are you alright, mate?” the Irish lad seemed worried. Harry didn’t want him to be distracted by anxious thoughts, however. They were about to go on stage any moment now.

“I’m fine.” He lied. Niall wouldn’t have it, though. He cocked an eyebrow at Harry and nudged him with his elbow, urging him to tell the truth. Harry gave in.

“Look, it’s nothing serious, really. Louis and I had a fight yesterday evening. It was stupid, nothing worth squabbling about but it still kept me awake at night. I’m just tired that’s all.”

Niall gave him a suspicious look, hinting to him that he suspected Harry was holding something back. But he didn’t get a chance to interrogate his friend any further when he heard the countdown echoing through the halls of the backstage area, signalling it was time to line up behind the curtain and get ready to perform.

“It’s going to be alright, mate. Don’t worry. You’ll rock this show tonight and you’ll make up with Louis before the night is over, you always do.”

Niall’s words actually managed to make Harry feel a little bit better. He gave Niall a weak but honest smile before lining up behind Zayn, ready to jump on stage. Harry was tired, so so tired. But somehow he couldn’t blame all his symptom on the lack of sleep and his bad mood. He felt dizzy and drained of energy, which was pretty normal since he had only slept for like 2 hours, but he also had this nasty stinging pain in his upper stomach which made him feel nauseous at times. He tried to ignore the pain and keep a straight face, but the truth was he could hardly stand upright, his stomach hurt so badly. All he wanted to do in this moment was to lie down on his soft bed, snuggle into the sheets and pillows and preferable also have Louis in bed with him so he could comfortably curl up on top of his warm chest. But that was simply not going to happen now.

“Get your shit together!” He snapped at himself.

“And here are One Direction!” announced a voice over loud speaker and the audience went wild.

Liam and Niall were already on stage and Louis was the next to go. Harry searched for eye contact with him but Louis wouldn’t even turn his head in his direction. A second later, he slipped through the curtains and was gone. Louis always gave Harry that _you’re-my-world-and-I-love-you-and-everything-is-going-to-be-alright-I-am-right-here_ stare before a concert or before an interview or something similar. He would give him this reassuring look full of love that made Harry melt inside a little. Not today, though, and Harry felt his heart clench and his eyes fill up with tears. “Doesn’t Louis realise how much I need him right now, despite the fact that we are currently having a quarrel?” Harry thought to himself.

Zayn just jumped on stage. Harry was the last one remaining backstage. He heard some stressed and mildly annoyed voices behind him, telling him to move and get out there. Harry quickly wiped away the tears before doing as they said. The limelight was burning in his eyes and he was left blind for a few seconds. Then his eyes adapted to the bright surroundings and he saw the thousands of screaming teenage girls in front of him. The noise they made was incredible. Deafening. Harry felt a weave of dizziness and nausea roll through his body. He clenched his eyes shut for a few moments, simultaneously pressing his lips together until they turned white, waiting for the symptoms to pass. This was going to be a long night.


	2. Old Friends And New Problems

[Yesterday evening]

Harry shifted around on the uncomfortably hard barstool. He was getting rather tired and, besides, Louis und he had agreed that they would return home from the club at a reasonable hour since they had a concert the next day and they wanted to be well rested. Louis had gone to get them their last round of drinks before they would leave. He had been gone for quite a while now and Harry began to worry. Where the hell was he? Eventually, he saw Louis push through a crowd of people, trying to make his way towards Harry. And he was not alone. He was followed by a young and (to Harry’s resentment) rather good looking lad. He’s clothing style was quite similar to Louis’: striped shirt, a grey hoody and reddish trousers.

“Here you go, Harry. Your drink. I made sure they put one of those little umbrellas in it because I know how much you love them.” Louis put the drink down in front of Harry, giving him his best smile.

“Uh thanks.” Harry muttered before turning his attention to Louis’ acquaintance. “I see they are now giving away free mates with each drink.” He said it with a smile but it was crystal clear that he was annoyed as hell. Louis gave him an angry stare but his companion just chuckled lightly and, in Harry’s opinion, _arrogantly_.

“My name is James and I’m afraid I’m not purchasable.” He retorted with a kinky smirk on his face.

 _“Yeah, as if anyone would pay actual money for you.”_ Harry sneered in his head. Out loud he said: “Well, nice to meet you, James. (Lies, so many lies) Do you and _MY Boyfriend_ know each other or..?”

“Yeah actually, we have known each other for quite some time….”

“…But it’s been a very long time since we’ve last met or even talked to each other.” Louis chipped in in an attempt to calm Harry down. He knew Harry was not the jealous type but right now, he was definitely upset.

James continued: “That’s true. We knew each other in primary school, hung out quite often for a while and also went through a lot of shit together. Man, the teachers hated us! It was a hell of a time.  But yeah we lost contact after school finished, you know how it goes…You promise someone that you’ll always be friends and keep in touch with them but after a while, you just grow apart. We haven’t talked since we were…what? Eleven, twelve?”

“Yeah something like that.” Louis agreed.

“Such a weird coincidence to meet you again in a place like this! And just look at you! All grown up, in a relationship and, not to forget, fucking famous!” He patted Louis on the shoulder really hard and started laughing. “Man, I didn’t even know I missed you until I saw you again now! We have so much to catch up on!”

“Yes I believe you do, …” Harry interrupted: “…but we’re having a concert tomorrow and Louis and I need to be well rested. Sooo, yeah we are actually about to leave.”

“Oh come on. I’m sure you can stay a little while longer.” James said challengingly.

“Look, I’m sure you’re a great guy (LIES), but we really need to get some sleep. It was nice meeting you.” Harry really wasn’t the type to get easily jealous or to be unfriendly to others but he was so tired and worn out and when he was tired, he tended to get irritable. He just wanted to lie down. With Louis. With _his_ Louis. He stood up, grabbed his jacked and took a hold of Louis’ arm, wanting to pull him up too. Louis, however, pulled his arm away from Harry’s grip and snorted: “Do I even get a say in this?! Like, maybe _I_ _want_ to stay here with James a bit longer?”

Harry didn’t believe his ears. “What?”

“You heard me alright. I haven’t seen James in ages and I really enjoy his company right now.” His tone gets somewhat softer. “Why can’t we just stay one more hour? I’m sure we’ll still get enough rest. It’ll be fun! Sit back down, love.”

And that’s when Harry lost it. “No, Louis, we will not stay longer, not even for just one hour. We agreed in advance when we would leave because we have responsibilities, things to do!  People count on us! What do you think Zayn, Niall and Liam would think if we turned up worn out and hung over for band practise tomorrow? I am leaving now and either you are coming with me and go to bed with me or you can stay here by yourself and later, when you get home, you can sleep on the fucking couch!” Wow. The alcohol seemed to have a bigger effect on Harry than he had realised.

Louis and James both stared at him, mouth open and eyes wide.

James was the first to break the silence: “Look, guys, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be the cause of a dispute. Louis, maybe you should just g….”

“No!” Louis blurted out. He grabbed Harry’s wrist and dragged him harshly towards a corner in the far end of the club, shouting “Excuse us for a minute.” to James.

“What the hell has happened to you? Why are you so fucking upset?”

“Why? Seriously? How would you feel if I didn’t adhere to our agreements and instead decided to flirt with an old school friend?”

“Flirt? Do you even know what you’re talking about? We’re not flirting, I would never flirt with anyone when I’m in a relationship. Fuck, Harry, I would never cheat on you or deliberately hurt you and you know that!”

“Yeah, I know.” Harry admitted with a tiny voice. He was staring at the floor, not daring to look at Louis. “So, does that mean you’re coming home with me?”

Louis frowned and made an unamused sound. “No, Harry, I still want to stay here and talk with James. We haven’t met in so long and god knows when we will meet again, given we’ll ever meet again. But you can go home and get some sleep. You look like you could really use it.” He raised a hand to brush a strand of brown out of Harry’s face but Harry backed away, avoiding the touch.

He was acting like a freaking child, throwing a tantrum over nothing, but he didn’t care anymore. He was too far gone.

“Fine!” He screamed. “Stay and have fun with your “ _friend_ ”. Hope your back won’t hurt too much tomorrow after a night on the couch!”

“Harry, I…” Louis tried to cradle his hand.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” People were already staring at them. Harry furiously swirled around and stomped back towards their seats at the bar to pick up his jacked and bag.

“Screw you, Louis Tomlinson!” he let out through gritted teeth.

He grabbed his things without paying the slightest bit of attention to James who was still sitting in the same spot as before. He was already heading towards the exit when he felt a strong, large hand wrap around his upper arm, holding him back. He snapped around, thinking it was Louis who had caught up with him but was instead met with James’ face only a few inches away from his own. He quickly let go of Harry as soon he had his attention, though. “Here, don’t forget this.” He handed Harry a half-full bottle of Coke. Harry’s Coke. “It fell out of your bag when some unobservant club goer knocked it over.” Harry snatched it from his hand without saying thank you, storming out of the near-by exit.

That night, Harry locked their bedroom door, forcing Louis to sleep on the couch as threatened. The next morning, Louis had already left their house before Harry even woke up. They only met again at band practice. Harry, after having had the whole night to think about what had happened at the club, came to the conclusion that he had, in fact, overacted. He had been unfair to Louis and he was determined to apologise by the next chance he got. Louis, however, had obviously decided to ignore and avoid Harry. There wasn’t a single moment of privacy when they could have talked and after the band practise was over, Louis was the first to be up and gone, letting no one know where he went.

They had been together for about three years by the time and they had had a lot of fights, inevitably also when they were on tour or having some other sort of public appearance, but usually they at least talked and tried to sort things out before they had to perform or give an interview. Not this time.


	3. Hitting Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.

[Present Day]

They were already half way through the concert. It was absolutely amazing so far. The audience seemed to be in an exceptionally cheerful mood tonight. They sung along to every single song full-throated and immediately let Niall know they forgave him for forgetting part of his lyrics by laughing and whistling and clapping furiously.

Seriously, this had to be one of their best concerts so far. Except for the fact, of course, that Louis was still pissed off with Harry beyond limit. And he did not hesitate to let Harry know, while somehow simultaneously managing to ignore him. For real, though, Louis can be so damn sassy at times. During _Happily_ , which was _their_ song, Harry casually danced (as well as he could in his current condition) over to Louis, trying to get some sort of reaction from him. When Louis, again, didn’t even bother to look at him, Harry stopped right in front of him, blocking his view to the audience. With a stealthy blow of his elbow, he forced Harry to back off, allowing him to walk passed Harry, singing and smiling as if nothing had happened. What a bastard! As if receiving the cold shoulder from the love of his live wasn’t bad enough, Harry also felt like shit and it just kept getting worse. The dizziness, the stomach ache and especially the nausea. By the time Liam announced to the crowd that they would have a short brake, he could hardly keep himself on his feet. It was around this point that he admitted to himself that this, whatever it was he was having, was probably more serious than he had originally thought it to be. But what should he do? Leave and go home and curl up on his bed? He considered it for a moment. He didn’t want to disappoint all the fans who had paid good money to come here tonight to see them perform. After all, they basically own their success and their career to them. The least he could do in return was to deliver the best fucking show they had ever seen. They deserve nothing less.

But that was not the only reason he didn’t want to quit now. Louis and he were still fighting and, despite feeling more dead than alive, Harry was still stubborn as hell. He had left the club early yesterday and had given Louis shit for not coming home with him. “ _We need to be well rested! We have a concert tomorrow! We can’t turn up hung over to band practise!”_ These were Harry’s words and he remembers them only too clearly. And look who was now up and well and jumping around on stage like a hyperactive fawn…. Well, it was not Harry. “I can do this!” he decided sternly. “I will make good use of this brake, drink some water, maybe eat something, take some painkillers…”

He was waving and smiling childishly, just like he normally would, while making his way back stage but as soon he had disappeared behind the curtains and was out of sight from the audience, let himself slump against the nearest wall, needing it to help support his weight. The wall was cold and hard and felt amazing pressed against his overheated body. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck…” Harry thought desperately. A tingling, fuzzy sensation diffused throughout his body, causing goose bumps to emerge on his skin, while his head was strangely pulsing, making him even dizzier. Now, that the rush of adrenalin that kept him going on stage started to fade away, the symptoms became more prominent than ever.

The next to slip through the curtains was Liam. He looked cheerful, was still laughing when his eyes met Harry’s miserable form.

“Fuck, H you ok?” he panted, still a bit out of breath from performing. Harry didn’t answer him, floppily letting his head hang, all his concentration focused on not passing out. Liam hastily took a hold of both of his arms, helping him to stand as well as urging him to lift his head and look at him.

“Harry! Harry, what’s wrong? Talk to me! Jeez, you’re scaring me.”

Harry forced himself to gaze up at Liam who stared at him, worry displayed all over his face. His eyes were tinted with a glassy shine, typical for someone who’s running a fever, while the rest of his face was an unnatural yellowish colour. Liam quietly cursed himself and the other boys. How could they not have noticed how sick Harry looked until now?

“Dunno.” Harry murmured almost inaudibly. “Feel a lil dizzy and, uh, you know, just tired from lack of sleep.”

Liam stared at him, brows furrowed in light annoyance. “Harry, you look like death himself. Don’t try to make this appear less serious than it is. I am your friend, H! You know you can always come to me with your problems. Haven’t I proven to you that you can trust me with anything? I’m asking you again in all seriousness: What’s wrong?”

He was right. There was no point in trying to hide how he was feeling anymore, his health had deteriorated too far. His plan to continue performing and to suffer silently through the rest of their show had been defeated. He opened his mouth in an attempt to answer Liam, but was prevented by a sudden burning sensation in his stomach, accompanied by a feeling that can only be described as a thousand tiny, spiky needles flying around in his belly, drilling into the stomach wall. Before he knew what was happening, he wrapped his arms around his clenching stomach, crouched and emptied the content of his stomach all over the grey concrete floor.

He was trembling furiously, sweat breaking out of every single pore of his body. Liam was instantly kneeling next to him, one hand on Harry’s back to prop him, the other holding back his long hair. He was talking to Harry, uttering soothing words which were frequently interrupted by shouts and orders directed to people from their crew. Blood was rushing loudly in his ears, making it almost impossible to understand what Liam was saying. Not that he had the strength to listen to him anyways. He was still crouching, coughing and gagging for air, trying to recuperate from vomiting. Salty tears burned in his eyes, leaving him blind and helplessly relying on Liam to keep him from falling over and landing in his own puke. An odd acidic taste spread out in his mouth, mixed with the metallic taste of…oh god. Harry brushed away the tears with a shaky hand so that he could see again. Before him lay a puddle of unusually liquid vomit,… and it was freaking red. Red everywhere. It took him a second to realise it was, in fact, mostly blood and not actual vomit. Weirdly enough, he didn’t freak out. He was too exhausted, too dizzy to care that he had just puked blood during the break of their concert in from of about a dozen people. A heavy fog clouded his mind: Everything around him nothing but a big blur, people shouting stuff at each other and at him in aroused voices, familiar faces huddling around him, hands holding out glasses of water and towels.

Left in a state of utter confusion, he barely noticed the soft, warm hand placed on his cheek. Somehow, the touch seemed familiar and it evoked the most pleasant memories in Harry. He leaned into the tender touch, seeking the reassuring skin-to-skin contact, and mouthed with a voice too hoarse to produce proper sounds “Lou.” before unconsciously toppling over sideward, Louis’ hand being the only thing preventing his head from hitting the concrete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoooo
> 
> Just wanna say a quick Thank You to everyone who has read this fic, left Kudos or comments and continues reading!  
> You are the best, seriously!


	4. Slumber Party At A Ward

 

“No!” Louis screamed furiously. Zayn lifted a hand, trying to pat Louis’ shoulder in consolation but he swatted it away. “Don’t you fucking touch me, Malik!”

 

The other people at the ward were already staring at them in confusion and annoyance. “Fine!” Zayn answered, “I won’t come near you but please keep your voice down a bit. We’re not the only o…”

“I don’t give a shit.” Louis snapped, laying stress on the last word.

 

“I want to see Harry! Now!”

 

He had turned into a small, helpless child, completely caught up in his own uncontrollable emotions. Anger, frustration and sadness boiled inside of him and no words or actions from his friends could stop him from throwing a tantrum or offer him comfort.

 

They had been waiting in a small partition of the ward, furnished with a hand-full of chairs and a table with battered magazines on it, for almost thirty-five minutes now. (It was about 11.30 pm) Louis had accompanied an unconscious Harry in the ambulance while Liam, Niall and Zayn followed in a taxi. (The second half of the show tonight got cancelled. They told the fans that Harry had a bad case of food-poisoning and that Louis accompanied him to the hospital. They promised to make up leeway, either by hosting the second part of the concert at another time or by refunding part of the money received.)

 

Harry was immediately rushed into surgery, while the boys, not allowed to be in the operating theatre, were told to wait in the designated waiting area. On one hand, Louis was absolutely devastated because he couldn’t stay with _his_ Harry but, on the other hand, he didn’t think he could have handled to see what they were doing with Harry, whatever it was they were doing.

 

That was another thing that made Louis insane. Neither he nor the boys were told what was going to happen to Harry during the operation, why he needed surgery or what the hell was wrong with him.

Every time one of them would address a passing nurse, she’d simply reply that either she wasn’t in charge of the patient _‘Harry Styles’_ and therefore didn’t know anything or that they had to wait for the doctor to finish the surgery because he was supposedly the only one who could give them detailed information. Louis could have screamed at each and every one of the nurses. At least they found out the name of the doctor who was doing surgery on Harry **.** **H. Clayton MS.**

 

“What the fuck is wrong with these people?” Louis exclaimed in frustration. “They can’t just take Harry away to cut him open or, god knows what they’re doing to him right now, without telling us what’s going on! What if Harry is conscious and scared and in pain? He needs me!”

 

The last two sentences came out more as a sob. Louis was crying now, miserably whimpering against Zayn’s chest while the younger boy was hugging him tightly.

 

“Shhhh. Hey, come on, Lou. I can understand you’re upset. We all are. But these are good people, professionals in their field, trying to help Harry. I’m sure he’s fine.”

 

Louis couldn’t bring himself to believe Zayn, no matter how much he wanted to. Before his closed eyes flashed pictures of Harry puking blood, of Harry’s skin, pale and yellow and eyes all glassy, of Harry distorting his face in pain and whimpering helplessly…  

A terrible thought lurked somewhere in the dark, deep end of his mind. What if that was it? What if the next time he saw Harry, he’d be laying stretched out on a metal bar, skin white and limbs stiff? His dreamy green eyes closed forever…

 

The thought caused Louis actual physical pain. He felt like his chest was about to explode from sadness and despair and his heart clenched so hard it hurt.

Fresh tears broke out of his eyes, adding to the wetness on Zayn’s black shirt. He started choking on his tears and spit, the lack of oxygen making him feel fuzzy and unwell. His trembling hands found Zayn’s shirt and gripped it for support for he was no longer capable of standing on his own. Zayn, noticing that Louis was starting to sway on his feet, gently sunk down to the floor until he was sitting, relatively comfortably, with Louis nestled in his arms.

 

All the while, Liam and Niall watched the situation helplessly. Zayn had always been the strongest out of them in situations like this. He seemed to know what to do, as well as the right words to say. Liam could understand now why the fans referred to him as “daddy”. He was blankly staring at Zayn and Louis, all curled up on the cold floor, when Zayn looked up at him, nodding towards Niall’s direction. Liam turned around to find his bandmate snivelling, trying to hide his tears behind the sleeve of his sweater. _Oh_. No words were needed between the two of them. Liam immediately understood that Zayn’s nod was a prompt to take care of Niall.

 

Wrapping his arms around his smaller bandmate, he guided him towards one of the chairs, gesturing that he should sit down. Liam took the seat next to him, one arm around Niall’s shoulders, holding him close.

 

No one said a word.

 

Half an hour had passed when Zayn noticed that Louis’ breathing had begun to slow down and even out. He couldn’t see his face since he had buried his head in Zayn’s chest and shirt, but he was quite confident that Louis might doze of any minute now,… poor lad was so exhausted. After everything that had happened today, they, indeed, deserved a few moments of rest.


	5. The Last Piece Of The Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened at the club after Harry left...

 [Yesterday evening]

 

“See it didn’t go so well, eh?”

 

Louis shrugged and let himself slump onto the stool next to James.

 

“He’s behaving like dick. Thinks we’re flirting or whatever, even though he knows damn well I would never cheat on him! Doesn’t seem like himself tonight, to tell the truth. Maybe I should have tried harder to find out what’s going on. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him storm out that door but ughhh….he can be so infuriating!” He let out a tired sigh. A shiver rushed through his body, despite the fact that it was awfully hot in the club. “I’m so sorry, James. Harry is such a wonderful person, I wish you could have met him when he’s his usual self and when..”

 

“Louis, cut it out. It’s fine, really. Maybe I’ll get the chance to meet up with the both of you another time, given you can convince your boyfriend that we’re just friends.” Then he adds with a genuine-looking smile on his face: ”I’m sure he’s a lovely person, otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen him, ‘m I right?”

 

A nervous laugh escaped Louis and he relaxed a bit, seeing how James seemed to handle the situation very casually and light-heartedly. “Yeah, you’re right. But let’s not talk about Harry anymore. Tell me something about you. What have you been up to all these years?”

 

Louis and James continued talking for a good hour, both catching up on each other’s lives. After primary school had finished, James’ parents had moved to Birmingham where James went to college. At the beginning, he was a fairly good student, always doing his homework, studying for exams and being respectful to his classmates and teachers. After a few months, however, he started to associate with the “wrong” people. James had never been holy, but, without those people in his life and their bad influence, he would probably have had a better future ahead of him.

He got hooked up on various drugs, started stealing, and let school slide. Finally, he dropped out of college after only two and a half years, his only qualification being the one of a drug dealer. When his parents found out, they kicked him out, telling him to not come back unless he would change and get his life under control again.

 

Louis listened carefully. He was shocked to hear his former best friend had had such a horrible life while his own just kept getting better and better. He couldn’t make up his mind whether he should feel sorry for James or be disappointed since this was all his own doing. Sympathy got the better of him and he went for the former.

 

“What happened then? You don’t look like a homeless junky to me. So what changed?” Louis inquired.

 

“After living on the streets for three months with other dealers and outcasts like myself, I knocked up one of the girls of our group. T’was a stupid accident.  I didn’t even know her well! Turned out she was very religious, couldn’t even bear the thought of an abortion.”

James awkwardly scratched his neck while trying to avoid Louis’ judging gaze. “Not to mention we wouldn’t even have had the money for the procedure. Anyways, with no other option left, she decided to carry out the baby and then give it away once it was born. Put it in a baby hatch or something, I dunno. The thing is, she actually really wanted to keep the baby. And, well, I was not too disinclined to the idea of being a father myself.”

 

Those words surprised Louis visibly. He didn’t say anything, though, but decided instead to hear James out.

 

“My last resort to get my girl and my baby off the streets were my parents. They had told me I could come home once I had changed: so I did. I quit the drugs and applied to every job offer I came across. Finally, a nice ol’ man from a near-by petrol station hired me as a cashier out of pity. I barley earned any money but it was still better than nothing. Only then I had the courage to return to my parents. They welcomed me home with open arms when they saw how much I had changed for the better and, being the kind-hearted people that they are, they offered to take in my girlfriend as well and pay for all her expenses. My dad even got us both a job in is firm.”

 

“That sounds great. I remember your parents, nice people indeed. Where’s your girlfriend now? And what about the baby?”

 

James crunched up his mouth, his whole expression turning sourer than a lemon could ever be. He spat out loudly: “Bitch left me right after the birth of _our_ son. After all I and my family had done for her and the baby, she just packed her backs at the earliest possible moment and was gone. Fucking slut had an affair with another guy while she was living in _our_ house and eating _our_ food. I called her, demanding to know what the hell was going on. Said she never really loved me. Said she just _needed_ me and my family’s money and that I was never going to see my son again.” He gulped down the rest of his drink, angrily slamming down the empty glass on the table. Louis jumped at the bang, trying hard to not let James see he’s frightened. James, however, was too busy with himself anyways. He continued his story in an even louder and more agitated voice than before.

 

“My son, my own flesh and blood, is now being raised by some random asshole and his slut of a mother. My son!” he exclaimed, gripping Louis’s arms roughly. Louis was officially terrified now. How the fuck did they go from _“Hey, good to see you again!”_ to _this_?

 

“H-hey man, calm down.” Louis stammered, trying to wiggle his way out of James’ death-grip. He only then realised how slurred his speech was and how blurry James’ face appeared in front of him. He must be more drunk than he had realised. But he didn’t even have so much to drink? Or did he?

 

While telling him his story, James had offered him one drink after the other and every single time, at first to be polite and later because he was already tipsy, Louis had mindlessly accepted them. Now he had to face the consequences.

 

To his surprise, James actually let go of him, combing his fingers through his greasy hair while inhaling deeply. “You’re right, man.” He brought out in a more relaxed tone. “This is a nice evening and we should enjoy ourselves.” He laughed out loud, a laugh that made Louis cringe inside, and patted Louis’ knee in a friendly manner. “You alright, mate? Shit, haha, didn’t mean to scare you. S’just sometimes I get carried away when talking about my ex.”

 

“I’m –I-I’m not scared.” Louis whispered insecurely.

 

“C’mon, I know what’ll make you feel better again.” James reached down to pull up his bag pack from beneath the table and started rummaging around in it. It took him a while to find what he was looking for since he himself had had his fair share of drinks. Eventually, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Whatcha say? Should we go outside?”

 

Louis stared at the wrinkled plastic package in James’ hand. He had started smoking about ten months ago, but had decided to quit again because Harry didn’t like it when he smoked. But Harry wasn’t here now and, upon seeing the half-full pack, his intoxicated body craved some nicotine more than anything else.

 

He nodded weakly. They both got up and stumbled out of the club. The fresh, chill air hit Louis like a fist in the face. It was freezing but the cold felt amazing on his hot and sweaty skin, refreshing his worn out body. They walked a few steps in the dark alley behind the club until they spotted an old rusty bench. Too weary to stand, they let themselves slump onto it. James pulled out a cigarette with his long fingers, basically pushing it inside Louis’ awaiting mouth before taking one out for himself. After he had lighted them, they leaned back, enjoying the sensation of hot, (toxic) smoke filling their lungs, warming their bodies from the inside out.

 

The dim light from the street lantern next to the bench was not enough to whitewash the stars shining brightly above.

 

Louis was gazing up at the night sky in awe, a gloomy feeling creeping up on him. This night had turned out so differently than he had expected. He had fallen out with Harry over nothing, had met an old school friend just to learn that his life was fucked up as hell and now found himself smoking a cigarette with said friend (Louis wasn’t sure if he should call him a “friend” anymore) in a lonely, dark alley. And just like that, he stared to miss Harry. But he couldn’t focus on anything right now. He felt like he was floating, thoughts merging and mingling with each other into a big ball of daze.

 

James had been right: the cigarette did make him feel better. And incredibly so. Louis felt so much more relaxed now, but there was still this gloomy feeling, this tiny voice inside his mind telling him that something wasn’t quite right. But what could that be?

 

He took another drag, sucking in the white smoke greedily. His skin began to prickle and he felt light-headed. Damn, since when did Tabaco have such an effect on him? Sure, he hadn’t smoked in a while, but…. Louis tried so hard to think, to put the pieces together, but he was physically unable to think straight. Reason dictated he should feel worried because something is clearly off, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry. He just felt so good. Genuinely happy. Exhilarated.

 

“Wha-wha’s this stuff?” Louis giggled, leaning against James’ shoulder.

 

“S’ good, isn it? Friend gave it to me. Makes you high like weed, but-but s’ cheaper.” James lulled back. “But unfortunately, effects don’t, they uh, don’t last very lon-“

 

James barked out a laugh. “Louehh, whacha doing?”

 

Louis was clinging to the street lantern, trying to climb up, but failing miserably.

“M tryin’a turn it off. S’ too bright. Wanna see the stars better.”

 

“You can’t turn it off, mate. Get back down ‘ere. You’re gon’ hurt you’self.”

 

Louis, however, was too far gone to listen to reason. He didn’t know any more what he was doing, simply acting on instinct and enjoying the beautiful sensations caused by the “cigarette”. He wanted to see the stars more clearly, so he tried to turn off the bothering light from the street lantern. For Louis, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable and possible thing to do at that moment. James wasn’t acting as senseless as Louis, probably because he was more experienced with drugs and his body accustomed to such substances.

 

They were both laughing and gasping for air now. The whole situation was just too hilarious in the eyes of two drunk and stoned young men.

 

Louis was hysterical. He was still cradling the lantern like a koala a tree, trying to inch himself further upward, but to no avail. Eventually, he couldn’t hold on anymore and fell, still laughing, on the dirty ground with his ass first. James was at his side immediately, pulling him up.

 

“C’mon buddy, let’s go back inside.”

 

“Naaaaaa, Jamesssssssss.” Louis lulled with a smug smirk on his face. He stumbled over his own feet, clinging on to James to not fall over. “’m havin’ so much funnnnn.”

 

“So you like my s-special cigarettes?”

“Ssspecial…” Louis repeated like a child that had just learned to speak, earning a compassioned laugh from James.

“C’m here.” He said, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming manner. Louis, whose mind was still clouded and heavy, accepted the embrace thankfully. He longed for physical contact, also an effect of the drug, but Louis didn’t know that.

 

James pulled him in close, pressing him against his chest. “Mhh so glad I met you.”

Louis didn’t answer since he didn’t even understand what James was saying.

 

Suddenly, James cupped his cheeks with his hands, bringing their lips together. It took Louis a few seconds to actually grasp what was going on. When he did, he stumbled back in confusion, getting some distance between him and James. “Wha- Wha’ was that?” Louis stammered shocked.

 

“This is what you wanted, Lou.”

 

“What I….wanted?”

 

“Yes. You initiated the kiss.”

 

“I…I did?” Louis shook his head vigorously. “I don’t understand wha’s happen’. I’m tired. I wanna lie down.”

 

“Don’t worry, effect’s not gonna last long, remember? You’ll be you’re ol self in no time.” James answered reassuringly, putting an arm around Louis again.

 

Poor Louis. His body didn’t cope with the substance too well, especially not in combination with the previously consumed alcohol. He was leaning against James for support, trying to fight back the tears. He was so confused and sad and angry and he didn’t even know why. He was like a puppy that just chewed up his owner’s shoe and that cannot comprehend why on earth his owner would scream at it.

 

James sighed. This was not at all going as he had planned. Louis’ depressed mood was starting to affect and annoy him. James wanted to have fun and enjoy himself; Louis being an absolute downer didn’t help. He quickly made up his mind and announced:

 

“C’mon, I’ll bring you home.”

 

Louis, barely conscious anymore, followed James as quickly as he could towards the end of the ally and onto an empty street. They didn’t have to wait long for a taxi to drive by. James stopped it and opened the back door, gesturing to Louis to climb in.

 

“Wait,” James stopped him: “How much money d’you have left?”

 

Louis raised an eyebrow in irritation, producing the black leather wallet out of his trousers’ back pocket nevertheless. James snatched it from his hand and opened it to take out the money, counting it.

 

“Should be enough. Don’t forget to pay the cabbie.” He handed the money back to Louis, keeping ten pounds for himself. Not that Louis would have noticed.

 

“Don’t leave me alone, please?” Louis whimpered. He felt so bloody miserable and even though he felt uncomfortable around James (He couldn’t remember why) he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone for just one second right now.

 

“Sorry, but this is goodbye. At least for now.” He softly brushed his thumb over Louis’ lips, making him quiver, before urging him to sit in the car.

 

The taxi drove off, leaving James behind in the dark alley.

 

After about twenty minutes, the taxi arrived at its destination. The cabbie had to wake up a snoring Louis and remind him again, after he had already stumbled towards the house, to pay for the ride.

 

Finally inside, Louis dragged himself towards his and Harry’s bedroom, pressing down the doorknob. The door wouldn’t open and it took Louis several more fruitless attempts to realise that it must be locked. But why would the door to their bedroom be locked? Suddenly, the heavy fog in Louis’ mind lifted a bit and he remembered what had happened that night between him and Harry.

That was it. That was the last event that pushed Louis over the edge. He sunk down next to the door, sobbing fiercely but quietly. He was cautious not to make any noise to not wake up or disturb Harry.

What the fuck had happened? How had everything turn out so wrong?

 

After a while, Louis managed to crawl into the living room and hoist himself onto the couch. He fell asleep immediately, face pressed into the cushions, his left arm and leg dangling off on one side of the couch. What followed was a short night, plagued by nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy you lovely people!
> 
> First of all, I'd like to apologise for not posting this chapter earlier but I was sooo busy like seriously: 1000 exams, birthdays, events, friends with problems, family members with problems....I don't know I was just constantly so worn out that I couldn't bring myself to sit down and write. Again I'm so sorry! But I honestly plan on finishing this fic!
> 
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	6. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys finally get to see Harry in hospital. What they learn from the doctor shocks them terribly...especially Louis is in for a bad awakening.

Darkness. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was a heavy and embedding darkness. Out of nowhere he heard a familiar voice scream his name. Again and again. The echo of the scream resounded in his ears, but he couldn’t for the sake of it make out from what direction the voice came from. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, like it just emerged from the darkness.

 

“Harry!” Louis answered loudly, hoping he would be heard. “Where are you?”

 

The voice got louder, the darkness more menacing. “Louis! Louis! Louis! Louis!” the screams echoed from everywhere.

 

“Harry!”

 

Suddenly, the darkness started to fade away and an unnatural, glaring light blinded him. While Harry’s voice got more and more quiet, he could perceive another familiar voice, but this time all his sensations were much clearer. Zayn! Finally, Louis opened his eyes completely, his sleep-drunken mind slowly waking up and adjusting to his surroundings. He squinted his eyes; stupid hospital lighting was so damn glaring.

 

“Hey. How are ya feeling?” Zayn asked softly. “I heard you screaming in your sleep. You called out for Harry a few times. Do you remember?”

 

Louis stared at him, eyes read from crying, then nodded tiredly. He realised he was basically lying on Zayn, so he quickly tried to scramble off of him but Zayn wouldn’t have it. He enclosed the smaller lad in a tight embrace, preventing him from leaving. “S’alright.” He whispered assuredly. Knowing he didn’t stand a chance in an argument like this, Louis let himself slump back against Zayn’s warm and welcoming body.

 

“What time is it?” Louis inquired.

 

“Uh.” Zayn stretched his neck to catch a glimpse of the clock hanging above his head on the wall. “Half past midnight.”

 

There were fewer people on the ward now. Everything seemed a lot more quiet and calm.

Until a sharp ‘whoooosh’ from one of the nearby slide doors startled the four boys. A nurse, an older, gentle-looking woman, walked swiftly up to them. Her voice, as gentle as her face, broke the silence.

 

“Are you here to see Harry Styles?”

All four boys jumped up from where they had been sitting and crowded around the slightly surprised nurse.

 

“Yes! Harry Styles.”

“We want to see him! Now!”

“How is he?”

“What happened? What did the doctors do to him?”

“Where is Harry?”

 

Overwhelmed by so many nervous inquiries, the nurse announced in a more stern way: “Now hold on, will you? All your questions will be answered individually at convenience. For now I can reassure you that Mr. Styles is doing well, given the circumstances.”

 

Not satisfied at all with this answer, Louis blurted out: “What circumstances? Just tell us what’s going on! Or better, take us to him! I wanna see Harry!”

 

The nurse made a hushing noise before continuing.

“I am deeply sorry, but I can give you no further information. Doctor-patient confidentiality. I am only allowed to talk to family members and only close relatives may visit the patient, as long as the patient himself is unable to authorise other people’s visits.” She gave an apologetic look.

“Are any of you related to Mr. Styles?”

 

The boys stared at her, then at each other, then again at her, mouth agape. What the actual fuck?

 

In a tone that implied defeat, Liam conceded that no, none of them were related to ‘Mr. Styles’. The nurse nodded slowly, thoughtfully, before letting out a sympathetic sigh. “I am sorry, boys. I truly am. But rules are rules. I will inform you as soon as Mr. Styles is conscious again and asks specifically for your presence. Until then, you ought to go home and get some decent sleep. Good night.”

 

She had already turned around and started to walk away, obviously too busy to bother with them any longer, when she seemed to notice something on the piece of paper that she had been holding in her hand all along that caught her attention. She returned with small but quick steps.

 

“Do any of you happen to know a certain Louis Tomlinson?”

 

“Me! That’s me! I’m Louis Tomlinson!” Louis almost choked on his own spit he tried to produce the words so fast.

 

“Oh good lord! We have been urgently trying to reach you for the past hour, Mr. Tomlinson. You are listed as Mr. Styles’ emergency contact, as you probably know. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

 

“My….oh shit.” Louis exclaimed when he realised. “I must have forgotten it in my dressing room at the concert.”

 

“Ah, well”, she leaned forward a bit, a tender smile playing on her lips, “at least I have found you now, that is all that matters. You, as the emergency contact, may follow me to see Mr. Styles.”

 

Louis was so relieved he could have started to cry anew right then and there. He hastily followed her, but, upon remembering his friends, stopped hesitantly. “What about them?” Louis asked, his voice shaking with anticipation. The nurse mustered each of them individually. “It is your decision, Mr. Tomlinson. If you allow it, they may come as well.”

 

“Yes! Yes, they can come!” Louis screamed approvingly.

 

The nurse nodded and led the way. “Follow me, then.”

 

A few long hallways and a lift ride later, they found themselves in front of room 201. Intensive care. The nurse, one hand already on the door knob, turned around to look at them seriously, the tenderness never leaving her features.

 

“Before we go in, I need you to understand that Mr. Style’s condition has, indeed, improved since his admission, but he is not yet over the worst.”

 

The boys nodded solemnly.

 

“I don’t mean to scare you. I am merely trying to prepare you for what you are about to see. It is hard to see a loved one in a condition like this, so don’t be ashamed to leave the room at any time if you feel you can no longer bear to be in there. One other thing: Mr. Styles is unconscious so don’t expect any sort of reaction from him.”

 

That having been said, she opened the door. It was dark, not as dark as it had been in Louis’ dream, but dark enough to add to his uneasiness and to make him shiver.

 

He couldn’t see Harry, only make out the contours of the bed in the soft, blue light that seeped through the drawn curtains. The nurse turned on the light; it was a much gentler and warmer light than the ones in the corridors and waiting area.

 

There he lay. Pale, skin like porcelain. The blue veins on his arms and neck glowed beneath the surface. His face looked haggard, the outline of his jaw was more prominent than usual and his otherwise smooth, red lips were chapped and as white as his skin. He was hooked up on a multitude of different machines that all made individual noises. What exactly they were for, Louis nor the other boys knew. The only familiar machine was the one that surveyed Harry’s heartbeat. _Beep beep beep beep_. The sound itself was annoying as hell but at the same time Louis didn’t want it to stop _ever_ because it meant that Harry was alive. Even though he didn’t look it.

 

Slowly, as if walking over a pendant bridge whose strings were about to rupture, the four boys approached the bed. Liam, Niall and Zayn held themselves back a bit, feeling Louis needed some space for himself, some privacy with Harry.

 

Louis fell on his knees beside Harry, tenderly taking a hold of his limb hand, his own hands trembling and ice cold. He stared at his love’s lifeless face, unable to even blink because he was afraid that only a split second of darkness might be enough to lose Harry again. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, over his stubbly chin and fell onto the snow-white bedsheets.

 

How? Why? Why him?

 

Once the first moment of shock had passed, Louis started to sob violently, his whole body clenching in pain and distress. In an attempt to keep himself from screaming, he bit down on his lips. Hard. In his state of despair, he didn’t notice that the boys had come closer to comfort him. But he was in no mood to be comforted. In a rush of blind fury he leaped up, pushing the others away from him.

 

“I want to know what fucking happened! Now!” Louis cried hoarsely. He’s had it.

 

Attracted by the uproar, a man in a white gown hurried through the door.

“Would someone care to explain to me what this turmoil at one o’clock in the morning is about? There are patients sleeping next door!”

 

Louis was about to tell him to piss off when Liam noticed the man’s name tag.

 

“You are Doctor Clayton!” he stated released.

 

“Of course I am!” the man adjusted his medical gown and assumed a professional posture. “Doctor Clayton, chief physician and in charge of the patient Harry Styles. I take it you are friends of Harry’s?”

 

(Thank god he didn’t refer to Harry as ‘Mr. Styles’)

 

“Yes we are and we demand to know what is wrong with him!” Louis exclaimed.

 

“May I know your name, young man?”

 

“Louis Tomlinson, emergency contact.” The nurse answered for him. The doctor only nodded lightly, mumbling something that was obviously only of importance to himself. He looked all the boys straight in the eyes before fixating his gaze on Louis.

 

“Louis,…I may call you by your first name?” Louis pulled a face of annoyance. He didn’t give a shit whether he called him Louis or Mr. Tomlinson or pussyslayer71. He just wanted to know what was wrong with Harry. _His_ Harry!

 

“Fine,” the doctor continued. “This is not going to be easy to hear so I need you to pay close attention.”

 

“When I first examined Harry after he had been admitted, he was bleeding internally. In his stomach, to be exact. Hence, the regurgitation of blood. Further invasive tests revealed the cause of the bleeding and the nausea. His stomach walls, as well as his gullet showed signs of chemical burns. We assume he must have swallowed some sort of caustic substance that caused these burns.”

 

He took a short break from speaking to insistently look at the boys.

 

“Your friend was lucky, and very so. A few more minutes and there would have been nothing we could have done to save him.” He strode over to Harry’s bed, recalibration one of the machines.

 

“We pumped his stomach, removing the remainders of the harmful substance, and stopped the bleeding. See this tube here? It is a drug infusion connected to the needle in his arm. Morphine against the pain. His intestines have been, well, they have been literally _burned_. The anaesthesia has probably lost its effects by now but we are keeping him sedated because conscious, the pain, even with morphine, is very sever right now. Also, he urgently needs the rest.”

“We are confident, however, that he will fully recover with time.” His beefy hand rested lightly on Louis’ shoulder. “You have my deepest sympathy.”

 

This must be a dream. It can’t be true. It just can’t. Louis bit on his tongue hard, hoping the pain would cause him to wake up from this nightmare. He had listened to the doctor’s words carefully as instructed but after the part about ‘ _pumping Harry’s stomach’_ , everything around him got blurry; the sounds, the sights, the sensations. He felt as if he had been wrapped in a thick layer of cotton, separating him from the rest of the world. He felt completely disconnected and unaffected by what was happening around him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he registered someone whimpering, sobbing. Probably one of the other boys. Or maybe it was himself. Who cares.

 

Only when the big, fleshy hand on his shoulder started to shake him lightly did he emerge from his trance.

 

“Louis, I asked you a question.” The doctor stated.

 

“I…pardon me, I wasn’t listening” Louis stammered, eyes torn wide open.

 

“I asked you if you can give me any information about Harry’s attitude towards recreational drug use. Does he smoke or drink? Has he ever taken any drugs apart from alcohol and tobacco? Does he take any substances on a regular basis? Have you ever noticed a bottle of pills or a bottle filled with a liquid of which you thought that its content might be dubious?”

 

Louis head was spinning, swamped with the ridiculous amount of questions asked.

 

“No.” Louis finally decided to answer: “No, he doesn’t take any drugs, at least none that I would know of. He doesn’t even smoke! He does drink a beer now and then, though, but he’s not an alcoholic or anything.”

 

“Hhmmhm.” The doctor hums, writing down everything Louis said.

 

“So I take it none of you know of a substance called Amyl Nitrite, better known in vernacular as TNT, liquid gold or poppers.”

 

The boys gave each other confused looks. No, they had never heard of it.

 

“It is the substance that we found in Harry’s blood sample. It is a recreational drug that can be bought as a colourless and odourless liquid. Rather cheap in comparison with other, similar substances available on the street. When inhaled, the consumer experiences a high, resembling the one one gets when smoking cannabis. However, as a liquid, it must not be consumed since it causes chemical burns on skin and, if swallowed, burns your intestines. The latter may result in death.”

 

Holy shit. None of the lads could believe what they had been told. Without a word of discussion, they agreed that Harry must have definitely swallowed the substance by accident. He is such a reasonable person, he could have never done something as reckless and dangerous as this knowingly.

 

“So, the question is: Where the hell did Harry get this stuff from? And how did he end up drinking it?” Niall commented. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.

 

An idea flashed through Louis’ mind. An idea so terrible it made Louis feel sick. “Doctor, you said the proper way to take the drug is by inhaling it. How can you inhale a liquid, though?”

 

“Good point, Louis. I should have explained that. It is very simple, really. You take a cigarette and dip it in the liquid, basically letting the tobacco soak in it. Then, you smoke the cigarette as you normally would.” The doctor tilted his head, brows furrowed in worry. “Are you alright? Nurse, get Louis some water to drink!”

 

Louis’ skin tone had assumed a cheesy-yellow colour from one second to the other. Suddenly, it dawned on him and he quietly cursed himself for having been so naïve and blind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! ly!  
> thoughts? feedback? questions? feel free to leave a comment!
> 
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	7. Dreaming Of Us

“James,..uhh.” Louis scratched his head. What was his surname again? Ah! “James Saunders.”

 

Noted. The interrogation continued. Age? Occupation? Location? Relationship status? Physical appearance? Louis answered all the questions with surprising ease.

 

“Alright.” the police officer announced. “This information about Mr. Saunders should suffice for now. Tell me, Mr. Tomlinson, why do you think he is responsible for what happened to Mr. Styles.”

 

Louis began to explain. He told the officer what had happened the night before. How he had met James in a bar while spending the night out with Harry. How he and Harry had fallen out. How he had stayed at the club to chat with James. What James had told him about his life and how he had scared Louis with his unexpected temperamental outburst. And, of course, how James had offered him a cigarette and how, after smoking it, he had felt odd and how he couldn’t remember what had happened afterwards.

 

“So you’re saying you think Mr. Saunders might have added something to the cigarette. A substance that shouldn’t normally be contained in tobacco and that made you feel ‘odd’?”

 

“Not just any substance!” Louis exclaimed! “Amyla… Amylen….” He turned to the doctor for help.

 

“Amyl nitratesa.” The doctor offered. To the officer he added:” Better known as liquid gold, TNT or poppers.”

 

The officer nodded, concentrating on the piece of paper before him on which he was writing on.

 

“And how is this in any way related to what happened to Mr. Styles?”

 

Louis was tired. So so very tired. His head was pulsing, his eyes dry and itchy and his stomach grumbling because of a lack of food. (Louis, as well as the other boys, had completely forgotten to eat and unknowingly skipped two meals.) Hoping that the doctor might do the explaining for him again, he gave Clayton a desperate, pleading look. The man noticed and complied.

 

The doctor told the officer the same about the substance that he had told the boys only about an hour ago. He ended with: “You see officer, Harry must have accidentally swallowed the substance which led to him being in his current condition. Theoretically, it is possible that he took it voluntarily but,” his eyes wandered to Louis, then to the other three boys standing in the corner, “but I believe these lads when they say Harry isn’t the type of person to do something like that. Louis told us that he thinks he might have been drugged with the same substance the night before, so we took a blood sample. It is being analysed right now. We should get the results back any minute now.”

 

The officer sighed. He was obviously as tired as the rest of them, given it was around 3:30 in the morning, but he tried his hardest to not let the tiredness show. He stretched his neck. It made an awful cracking sound like when someone cracks their knuckles. Finally, he said:” Basically, what you’re saying is that should Mr. Tomlinson’s results show that he has, indeed, been drugged with ‘liquid gold’ by Mr. Sanders, then the logical conclusion is that Mr. Saunders must also be responsible for Mr. Styles condition.”

 

“Yes! Exactly!” Louis screamed, a flicker of hope kindling in his heart. Now they were talking! This fucking bastard won’t get away with this!

 

“Can you tell me, Mr. Tomlinson, how Mr. Saunders could have administered the drug to Mr. Styles without him knowing?”

 

Puff. Burning flicker of hope extinguished.

 

Louis stood there, staring at the officer. To be exact, his gaze passed by the officer’s head and landed on the white wall behind him. A wall as blank as his mind. How? How could James have given Harry the drug? Without Harry realising it. And when? James was never alone with Harry! Or was he? He would have noticed if James had acted suspicious towards Harry! Would he really have, though?

 

“I…I don’t” Louis stammered when a young nurse burst through the door, nervously waving around a sheet of paper in her hand.

 

“Results from Mr. Louis Tomlinson! I was told to deliver this as quickly as possible to this room.”

 

Doctor Clayton took the sheet form her, thanking her. The nurse was gone again a second later. Everyone got dead quiet. Louis felt his heart beat vibrating through his body. Tension filled the room like water, making Louis feel as if he was drowning.

 

“Positive.” The doctor declared gloomily.

 

The word lingered in the air like an ominous cloud. A threat that was there, everyone could feel it, but that can’t be seen. ‘Positive’. One word. So simple. And yet, it can change a person’s life forever.

 

“That fucking bastard. That cunning son of a bitch.” Louis muttered almost inaudibly through gritted teeth, tears burning in his eyes.

 

“That’s not fair!” Harry squealed, voice still a bit rasp form last night’s concert. “I got you Tomlinson, just cut it out already!”

 

“I’ll never surrender!” Louis yelled with laughter.

 

Harry had his arms wrapped around Louis’ upper body, holding him hostage from behind. To Harry’s favour, Louis was too small as to be able to fight back in this position. After a few more struggles, Louis finally gave up, letting himself hang in Harry’s arms as if they were a hammock.

 

“Fine! Ok! You got me.” Louis conceded, head hanging low as if he was actually devastated about his defeat. Feeling Louis relax in his arms, Harry loosened his grip, relaxing as well. Big mistake. Swift like a cat, Louis wiggled out of Harry’s embrace, knocking Harry over by doing so. The taller lad stumbled backwards a bit before plunging into the waist-high water, ass first. He emerged again a second later, wet strands of curly Hair hanging in his face and eyes burning from the salt, to the sound of Louis’ ringing laugh.

 

“That wasn’t fair! You, Mister, are a cheater! That was foul play!” Harry pouted, wiping tangled hair out of his face.

 

“Nuhu.” Louis smiled victoriously. “You should pay more attention next ti…. WHAT are you….HARRY!!!”

 

Splash!

 

Before he realised what was going on, Harry had launched himself out of the water at Louis, bringing them both underwater. He swallowed a big gulp of seaweedy saltwater which send him into a coughing fit. “THAT, Hazza, was foul play!” Louis declared, staring angrily at Harry.

 

Harry responded by giving him his biggest, warmest, cutest smile whilst fricking fluttering his eyelashes like he was some sort of cheap escort. This man will be the death of him, Louis thought.

 

“I’m sorry, Lou.” Harry purred, snuggling up to him like the kitten that he was. “You mad?”

 

Louis nudged him gently in the side. “Stupid. You know I can never be mad at you for long. After all, you’re the love of my life!”

 

Harry beamed upon hearing those words. He knew Louis loved him. But hearing him saying it just like that….it made his hear melt over and over again.

 

“Love you too, Lou.” A pair of soft lips pressed a tender kiss on Louis’ cheek.

 

“What do you say, love? Should we go back to the beach and have some ice cream.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Yesssss!”

 

Like a bolt of lightning, Harry rushed towards the beach when suddenly, he stopped, bending over slightly. Louis caught up with him quickly. “What’s the matter, love?”

 

Harry only shook his head, wet curls flinging from side to side. “My stomach hurts.”

“What? All of a sudden?” Louis asked, worried.

“Yeah. The pain was just there all of a sudden.”

“Shit. Is that my fault? Did I nudge you too hard just before? Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to hurt you! I…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lou. This has got nothing to do with our games. My stom….arghh.”

“Harry? Harry! What is going on? Stop, you’re scaring me! Harry!”

 

Darkness came to sweep Harry away. The beach, the cloudless sky, the deep blue water….everything disappeared, save Louis’ voice. Louis’ calls were the only thing left to exist in Harry’s mind.

 

Slowly, anxious calls turned into hopeful inquiring: “Harry?” Louis gentle voice whispered.

“Harry? Are you awake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading and bearing with me!  
> I know my updates are irregular and sometimes it takes me quite a while to write the next chapter.  
> (BTW I am not JUST lazy. I honestly do have so much going on right now and I can hardly keep up with all the work)
> 
> so thank you again for putting up with me:P
> 
> and as always: Let me know what you think:)


	8. Wait For Me

****

”Nurse, didn’t I tell you to keep him sedated?” “I….Yes, doctor. I don’t know why he is waking up. He shouldn’t be….”

 

Somewhere in the background, Louis could make out people whispering, but he didn’t pay attention. His whole being was focused on the long, pale body stretched out in front of him. He had been thinking about what he would tell Harry when he woke up. He had it all thought out: He would fall to his knees and ask the curly-haired boy, tears streaming down his face, to forgive him. He would say the word ‘sorry` a million times if necessary just to hear Harry say those three magical words: I forgive you. Louis was absolutely convinced that this, everything bad that had happened, was, one way or the other, _his_ fault.

 

“Harry could have died because of me!” He thought in shock. “He could have seized to exist because of my naïvety!”

 

A small movement at the corner of his eyes brought Louis back from his dreamlike state of mind. There! Harry’s right hand twitched! And his eyes were fluttering, still more closed than open. Louis gasped audibly, attracting the others’ attention. The doctor walked over to Harry, checking his vital signs. He murmured away, brows furrowed. Something seemed to be off, otherwise he would be more enthusiastic about his patient finally regaining consciousness. The doctor bend over to open the bottom drawer of the near-by cupboard. When he pulled back his hand, he was holding a small glass bottle containing a clear liquid and a syringe. Quickly, he returned to Harry’s side. He filled the syringe with the drug and opened Harry’s catheter. “This should send him right back to sleep.” He announced.

 

He was about to inject when Louis intervened, screaming: “Hold on! What do you mean `send him back to sleep`? He’s finally waking up! He’s waking up on his own which’s good, isn’t it?”

 

“Look,” the doctor said:” I know you’re excited, but please remember that he is seriously injured and in great pain. He isn’t supposed to be waking up already. I don’t know why he is not sleeping deeply.”

Louis let his shoulders slump. The doctor was, of course, right. He knew what was best for Harry.

 

The doctor commenced his undertaking, only this time it was the officer who interrupted him.

 

“Wait a second, Dr. Clayton. If I may explain…” The doctor was visibly annoyed now, but gave the officer an approving nod nevertheless. The officer continued: “It is vital for our investigation to know how and when it was possible for Mr. Saunders to administer the drug to Mr. Styles. None of the other lads can give me further information, but maybe Mr. Styles knows something more. It would be very helpful if I could talk to him, only for a few minutes.”

 

The doctor withdrew the syringe and turned around to face the officer. Behind him, Harry was starting to move more and more, his hands stretching and clenching as if he was trying to take a hold of something. A decision had to be made soon. “Can’t that wait?” Dr. Clayton argued “The patient’s health has a higher priority than your investigation.”

“The sooner we have all the witness reports, the quicker we can begin proper investigation. And the more likely we are to catch the culprit. Mr. Styles’ health is important, yes, but time is precious, too. You, as a doctor, should know this best.”

 

The doctor nodded, the officer’s words concerning him. Sighing, he let his gaze wander back to where Harry was lying. “He’ll have to endure a lot of pain. It won’t be easy,” facing Louis, Niall, Zany and Liam he added: “for neither of you.”

 

“But I can see why it is important for him to wake up _now.”_ And very solemnly he murmured: “Maybe Harry can, somehow, sense that he is needed and that is why he is waking up.” As a doctor, he was supposed to be logical at all times and believe in facts and nothing else. His statement was not a professional one, but he thought it was the right thing to say at the moment.

 

It was decided, then. Harry should wake up. They would let him wake up in his own pace, not force anything.

 

“This might take a while.” The doctor stated. “Patients usually slip in and out of consciousness before actually, fully emerging from sleep.”

 

“Officer …. What was it again?” “Officer Duncan. You may call me Joe, Dr. Clayton.” “Call me Lorenz. Anyway, what I wanted to ask, Joe, is if you would like to accompany me to my office (cafeteria is closed at this time) for a cup of coffee. Coffee machine is old but makes excellent coffee. As opposed to standing around here until Harry wakes up.” Joe accepted thankfully, both smiling politely.

 

“We will leave the four of you alone with Harry, if that is alright with you.” The boys nodded.

“When he wakes up, or if you think something is not going the way it should, just press the red button on this remote and we’ll be right back.”

 

The two men strolled out of the room with the nurse in tow. Before closing the door behind her, the lady turned about, poked her head around the door and said with her ever so gentle smile: “I’ll make sure each of you’ll get a cup o’ coffee as well.” With a chorus of `Thank you, Miss` she left.

 

“So.” Niall started. “We’re just gonna wait for Harry to wake up now?”

“Yeah.” Zayn and Liam answered.

“Well, it can’t take much longer!” Louis exclaimed confidently. “Look how his eyes are moving beneath the eyelids and how his body wriggles and twitches.”

Squeezing Harry’s hand, he hushed: “S’alright, Hazza. I’m here. Do you hear me? We’re all right here with you, Harry!”

 

Zayn, Liam and Niall gave each other looks. If something went wrong now, Louis would be inconsolable.

 

30 minutes later, Harry was still in the same state. Meanwhile, the nurse had returned, carrying, as promised, a tray with five cups (one for herself) and a big jug of freshly brewed coffee on it.

Liam, Zayn, Niall and the nurse (her name turned out to be Rose) sat on the floor in a circle, sipping coffee, while Louis remained at Harry’s side, his coffee untouched.

 

“C’mon, Harry, c’mon.” he murmured over and over again. He was tired….so so tired. His eyelids felt heavy like lead. It was 5:30 in the morning. He was about to doze off (against his will) when he caught a sound whose origin was very close to is ear. He lifted his head a bit, looking around dazedly.

 

There! He heard it again. It was a sound so quiet the others didn’t notice it. It sounded like…like someone choking. Slowly, Louis’ brain picked up pace again.

 

“Harry? Harry, was that you?” He leaned forward to bring his face right next to Harry’s. “Hazza. It’s me, Lou. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

 

And holy shit Louis could have sworn his heart literally dropped a bit when Harry weakly squeezed his hand as instructed.

 

“Guys!” Louis shrieked. “Guys, he’s waking up!”

 

“Lou, you know what the doctor said. It takes time. Not every twitch is automatically a sign for….”

“NO!” Louis interrupted. “This is different, he reacted to something I said! He _IS_ waking up for real now!”

 

The other three boys jumped up in a hurry, Niall accidentally spilling the rest of his coffee by doing so. His face turned scarlet as he muttered an apology but the nurse only shook her head, saying: “Hush now, it’s fine. Go on, your friend needs you.”

With that, Niall speedily joined the group around Harry’s bed.

 

“He opened his eyes! Harry!”

 

There appeared to be a grey layer over Harry’s eyes, like fog or as if someone had spilled milk over them.

 

“Hazza!”

“Harry! Do you know what happened?”

“We’re all here, Harry! Do you hear?”

 

“Has someone remembered to push the red button like the doctor said?” Liam inquired. Of course, they had already forgotten about that. “Don’t bother.” Rose chipped in. “I’ll go fetch Dr. Clayton and the officer.” She was up and out of the room in the blink of an eye. Wow. She’s certainly very fit for her age.

 

Harry let out a tortured sound that drew the boys’ attention back to him.

 

“Lou….”

 

His voice was so hoarse it sounded like he had gargled with glass splinters. He screwed up his face in pain. Every sound he made was one of agony. “Loui…., Lou…” he tried again.

 

“Shhh, Hazza. Hush. Don’t talk if it hurts.”

 

The fog left Harry’s eyes and revealed their mossy green colour. He locked eyes with Louis. Louis teared up immediately. How long had it been since Harry had looked him straight in the eyes? Even now, despite the pain and the miserable condition he was in, there was so much love and affection in his expression. Love and affection which Louis, according to himself, didn’t deserve.

 

“’M sorry Hazza.” Louis wailed. “So so sorry. S’ all my fault. I’m so sorry can you forgive me please? Harry please I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault!” he buried his face in his arms in shame.

 

Harry, with great difficulty, lifted his delicate hand and placed it on Louis’ head. His fingers brushed through Louis’ hair, comforting him. His throat hurt too much as that he could talk and his stomach ached so badly he would probably have to throw up if he moved more than his arm. This small gesture was all he was capable of doing for the moment. It was the only thing he could do to let Louis know that there was no reason for him to feel sorry, that it wasn’t his fault, that he would be fine,…that everything would be alright.


	9. When I See You Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYY!!!!! So good to finally be back!  
> I have just gratuated from school (which is also the reason why I didn't have the time or the patience to continue writing) and now I feel so good and so free and the whole world seems a bit brighter :)))  
> Anyway this is only a short chapter but I figured it is better than nothing.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still bearing with me and to everyone who took the time to message me or to give me feed back.  
> I really appreciate it!

“Louis? Lou, you need to take a step back. The doctor wants to speak to Harry”

 

“No, it’s fine.” Dr. Clayton declared, patting Liam on the shoulder. “He can stay with Harry. I don’t think any power on earth could keep him away from his friend right now.”

 

Niall gave Liam a cheeky smile. Sure, `his friend’.

 

Cautiously, the doctor paced around the bed to its other side, allowing Louis to stay where he was. Meanwhile, the officer and Rose, as well as the other boys, stood in the corner of the room, keeping a decent distant to give the doctor and his patient some space. They stood there, stiff, pale and mute like marble statues. The only lively thing about them was their eyes, curiously observing every movement of Harry and the doctor.

 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry.” The doctor declared in a warm and welcoming voice.

 

Harry only weakly nodded in response, his fingers still entangled in Louis’s hair. Louis didn’t seem to have noticed the presence of the doctor or the officer. He didn’t look up once from where he was lying, hunched over the bed, face buried in his arms while Harry tried to sooth him by caressing his chocolate brown hair.

 

“My name is Clayton. Lorenz Cayton. I am your doctor and you are in hospital.” He inclined his head and bent forward a bit, making it easier for Harry to look at him. He continued:” Do you know what happened? Why you are here?”

 

Harry opened his mouth to answer but out came nothing but raspy sounds. “It’s fine, Harry. Don’t talk. Just nod or shake your head to answer, ok?”

 

Harry nodded. Then he nodded again.

 

“Does this mean ‘yes’ you remember what happened?”

 

Harry nodded again.

 

Contently sighing, Dr. Clayton let out a gentle laugh, tenderly patting Harry on his shoulder. “Ah, you won’t believe how relieved I am to hear you don’t suffer from amnesia. That makes things so much easier for all of us.”

 

Harry tried his best to mimic the smile on Clayton’s face, but he guessed it probably looked a lot more tortured and fake than he had hoped. To be honest, Harry wasn’t sure if he remembered what had happened. It was all a bit of a blur. He remembered being on stage at their concert. The air was hot and humid, filled with a thousand voices from screaming fans. Light. Glaring light. The limelight appeared to be even brighter than usual. It literally burned down on the five of them. And then what?

 

Pain. Harry can recall being in great pain. He had endured the first half of the show without showing his misery, but then something happened in the break. He had been the first to hurry off the stage to the backstage area. The pain kept getting worse….and the nausea! Did he have to throw up? What exactly happened? The last thing he could remember were agitated voices screaming, worried faces staring at him and ….and Louis. He was there. His hand pressed against his back.

Louis.

 

“Here, drink this. I suppose you must be very thirsty. Also, it will slightly sooth the pain in your throat.” Clayton handed Harry a bottled of water. The bottle was closed, only a small straw pocked out on the top. The doctor brought the straw to Harry’s mouth. The boy thankfully accepted the refreshment, taking tiny sips at a time.

 

Then began the interrogation. Harry nodded, shook his head, nodded again and so on and so forth. After about fifteen minutes, he was already completely worn out.

 

“I think we should call it a day.” The doctor stated. “Sorry to have bothered you, Mr Styles,” the officer threw in. “But your answers will help us find out what happened to you.”

 

The officer smiled contently and, after saying goodbye to everyone, walked out of the room. As soon as he was out of sight of the others, his smile perished and a deep frown formed on his face.  ‘Your answers will help us’. That was a lie. A huge lie. Harry couldn’t tell him anything more than the other boys had already told him. Except the approximate time at which the symptoms first started showing. And that was right before the show. But the only suspect, Mr. Saunders, who everyone assumed must be the culprit who poisoned Harry was nowhere near Harry at that time. Nothing made any sense! Anyway, the officer figured that talking to Mr Saunders would be a good start one way or another. This case would be more complicated than he had hoped.


	10. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis are finally home again after two months in hospital.  
> They couldn't be happier until Louis receives an ominous message...
> 
> Chapter contains short smut scene (not important to plot so you can skip it if you want)

Harry’s eyes sparkled with joy and love when he saw Louis hovering over him, a tray with breakfast on it in his hands. He wanted to say something, anything like _‘Aww baby, you didn’t have to._ ’ or _‘You’re the cutest._ ’ but then he remembered that he was not allowed to speak (strict orders from the doctor) and instead flailed his arms around Louis’s body, dragging him into a big hug.

 

“Good morning to you too, Hazza.” Louis laughed. “You know, I really should have expected that food in bed wasn’t a good idea.” he added, pointing down on his now orange juice-soaked pyjama bottoms. Harry gave him an apologetic grin before releasing Louis from his grip and stretching his back and arms. His whole body was still stiff and sore from the two months he had spent in hospital. Two months of lying around, sever pain and nausea. Two months of examinations and operations. Two months of staring at the same boring, white walls in his room. Two months of no privacy and complete dependency and worst of all: Two months of NOT sleeping in Louis’s arms.

 

It was only yesterday that Harry had been released from hospital and sent home. (Though he was still not allowed to speak since speaking would slow the process of healing in his throat.)

That evening, Harry had been able to curl up in Louis’s arms for the first time in what felt like forever. He had been incredibly tired but had fought off sleep for as long as he could, wanting to enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in Louis’s embrace for as long as possible. It had been dreamlike: Louis’s breath prickling on his neck, his strong arms holding him tightly, his naked, soft legs intertwined with his own, his body pressed against his back….In a state of pure bliss, Harry had finally drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

“Stomach still hurts?” Louis inquired cautiously. Harry pulled a face that Louis could decipher as “A little, yeah.” It was ridiculous really just how well they were able to understand each other and to communicate even without words.

 

Louis leaned in to press a gentle kiss on Harry’s chapped lips. “Remember the doctor’s words. The pain should be gone in another one or two weeks or so.” he comforted him.

 

Harry nodded briefly before returning the pressure on his lips. Suddenly, he leaped up and let himself slump onto Louis, causing the latter to fall backwards on his back. Harry’s hands found Louis wrists, pinning the smaller boy down on the mattress.

 

“Harry what are you..” but Louis was interrupted by Harry’s tongue in his mouth. Louis immediately surrendered and instead chose to embrace this welcoming change of events.  

 

Passionate kisses quickly turned into heated snogging. Harry pulled away from Louis’s mouth to place little pecks all over his face, then down his neck and shoulders. Luckily for him, Louis never slept with a shirt on. He continued placing kisses down Louis’s torso; Kisses that soon turn into tiny kitten licks. Louis’s breath hitched in anticipation as Harry got closer to his crotch. Harry, however, stopped to make a short excursion to Louis’s ethereal hipbones. He dug his teeth into the soft flesh, tenderly enough to not hurt Louis but hard enough to leave bite marks. Harry could feel Louis hardening beneath him, a sensation that he thoroughly indulged in time and time again. Harry himself was also already hard. Well, to tell the truth, he had woken up with a hard-on and could not wait for this to happen. But who could blame him?  The only physical contacts he’s had in the last two months was doctors and nurses examining him. It wasn’t his fault that he was absolutely desperate to get some action. Louis seemed to be very impatient as well and that’s when it dawned on Harry that Louis, too, hadn’t had any sex for the last two months. Harry planned on making up for it in every single way he could think of.

 

His hands released Louis’s wrists and sneaked instead under the waistband of Louis’s bottoms. (Eww they were sticky from the spilled orange juice). Before pulling them down, he softly kissed Louis’s clothed cock.

 

“Harry for God’s sake please!!!” Louis screamed desperately. Harry grinned widely, but decided to ignore Louis and just continue with his teasing a little longer. He now tenderly nibbled along the outline of Louis’s hard member, leaving traces of wet patches from his saliva.

 

Louis arched his back, swearing under his breath. “Ahhrgg, Ha-arry.”

But Harry still ignored him. He had now reached the head of his cock and slowly sucked at it, still only through the fabric of his trousers.

 

“HARRY!” Louis moaned,  grabbing Harry’s hair with one hand to pull his head (and mouth) away from his crotch.

Harry growled angrily at the harsh pull.

“Sorry, Hazza, but I had to stop you.” He breathed out, cheeks flushed, pupils dilated. “You..I..I was about to..”

 

 ** _RING RING      RING RING_** (yeah that’s a phone, ringing)

 

“That’s my phone.” Louis stated unnecessarily. “I quickly gotta check..”

 

Harry made a face like a toddler who just dropped his ice cream as Louis pulled away to get up and get his phone. He was in desperate need of Louis (‘s touch) right now so he tried to hold him back but the smaller lad was too quick and escaped. Harry let out a long and tortured groan before burying his face in the sheets. Usually, Louis would NEVER leave his baby in the middle of (almost) sex just to get his phone but this was different. Officer Duncan, who had interrogated the boys in hospital and who was in charge of the case ‘Harry Styles‘ had said that he would call Louis as soon as they had made any progress in their investigation. Though the lack of progress in the last two months had been more than discouraging. (James seemed to have disappeared. Despite a wide spread search throughout the town, he was nowhere to be found.)  Still, Louis would always run to answer his phone in the hope that maybe this time it was Officer Duncan, that maybe this time he would get the news he was so frantic to hear.

 

It was quite awkward walking down the hall to get his phone in the other room with a raging boner in his pants. But one has to set priorities.

 

By the time he got a hold of his phone, the call had already been terminated. He looked at the number on the screen. Unknown. Louis frowned. It was 8.30 am on a Sunday. Who would have the nerve to call at this hour? He was about to put the phone back on the table when the screen light up again. A new message, sent by the same number.

 

_‘Today, 11 pm, by the old playground_

_Come alone and no more fucking cops or else‘_

 

 

Louis didn’t have time to freak out when he spotted Harry leaning against the door frame. He raised his eyebrows impatiently at Louis in a _‘What is going on’_ manner.

 

“What are you doing, Harry. You know you’re on bedrest for another three days.” he lectured while hastily turning off his phone and putting it back on the table.

 

Harry’s frown deepened and his overall expression said: _‘Don’t try to change the subject.’_ He could tell that there was something bothering Louis by the way he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other and from the way he unconsciously tried to avoid making eye contact. In a gentler manner, he approached his boyfriend and whispered, voice low and rasp: “What’s wrong, love?”

 

“Nothing.” He declares, a vacant expression on his face. Then he realised. “Harry! You’re not supposed to talk!”

 

Harry only smiled, pulling him into an embrace and slowly stroking his soft brown fringe. Louis felt himself relax at the contact and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Harry’s neck. After letting out a long sigh he said: “It was my mom. On the phone, I mean. Was too late to accept the call. I’ll try calling her back later.”

 

Louis hated lying to Harry, but there was no way he could tell him the truth either.

 

“Then why are..” Harry coughed softly. He hadn’t used his voice in two months. Now it was extremely hoarse and all he could produce was a whisper. He tried again: “Why are you upset?”

 

“Because you keep talking even though it is audible that you clearly shouldn’t be?” Louis responds questioningly, a gentle grin forming on his face. Harry let out an annoyed ‘ _huff’_ , followed by a harsh (but loving) slap on the bum.

 

“Oi! Watch your hand, mate.” Louis laughed. But when he saw Harry’s serious facial expression, he was reminded of the sobriety of the situation and his smile faded away. But he can’t tell Harry the reason why he is upset! He can’t!

 

“Uhm, it’s just….I was hoping Officer Duncan was calling. That he would give us good news regarding the investigation. But no, of course it wasn’t him….” Louis admitted sadly.

 

Harry pulled him in closer in an attempt to comfort him. Apparently, Harry didn’t realise that Louis had not told him the entire truth.

 

Louis’s right cheek was now pressed against Harry’s chest and the beat of Harry’s heart resounded in his head.  “It’s gonna be alright.” Harry breathed softly, but Louis couldn’t shake the feeling that, no, it was not going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go!   
> Second chapter today as an apology for the long wait!
> 
> Hope you like it and so sorry for the terrible smut, haha, it was my first attempt at smut so please don't be cruel;)


	11. Mistakes

They spent the day hanging around at home, cuddled up on the couch and watching one movie after another. Louis made sure that Harry was as comfortable as possible, providing him with everything he needed. Harry had expected Louis to be overprotective, but this was ridiculous: Louis would throw an angry glare at him as soon as he made a notion to move, silently ordering him to stay in a lying position. Also, as soon as he thought Harry was going to open his mouth, he would quickly press his finger (or sometimes his whole fucking palm) over his mouth, forcing him to stay quiet. There was nothing to escape Louis’s vigorous supervision. But to say that Harry didn’t also enjoy the notorious care to a certain extent would be a lie, too. He loved Louis. Every version of him. And secretly, overprotective Louis was one of his favourites.

 

He pressed himself closer into Louis’s chest, breath hot against the smaller man’s blue-striped shirt. They were currently watching _Avengers_ and although they were only about a quarter into the movie, Harry struggled with keeping his eyes open. Fuck, to say he was tired would be an understatement. He was positively exhausted. He blamed the pain medication for his sever lack of energy. It was only 7pm. He should not be falling asleep already. But he was, wasn’t he? He felt his eyelids slowly close against his will, body going a bit limper with each steady breath. Louis soon took notice of Harry’s flat and tranquil breathing pattern. Looking down, his jaw slightly dropped at the stunning sight. Harry, all curled up against his torso, brown locks, dishevelled, lying over his forehead and cheek, emerald eyes almost closed.

 

“You want to go to bed, Hazza?” he whispered.

 

“Hmm?” Harry lifted his gaze to meet Louis’s, sleep heavy over his eyes like a fog. Louis couldn’t keep himself from chuckling. “Come on”, he announced as he lifted Harry up with him. _Damn, he’s heavy_. Once on his feet, Harry managed to make his way to their bedroom without assistance. Louis still followed, anyway, hand intertwined with Harry’s. Without warning, Harry let himself fall onto the soft mattress, face first. _Finally._ After having helped Harry roll over onto his back, Louis pulled (or more like attempted to pull) the blanket from beneath Harry. He heard the fabric tear one, two, three times before eventually succeeding in his undertaking. Looking the blanket over, he found that there weren’t any obvious holes or impairments in it. Good. He proceeded to throw it over Harry’s sleepy form. Harry only contently hummed in return. Louis couldn’t help but smile at his boyfriend. Sometimes, it almost physically hurt to look at him….he was..he was just so beautiful? His beauty was almost unearthly. But not enough with that. He was also lovely and kind and gentle and smart and generous and soft and…. He tilted his head slightly to the side. _‘I could go on forever’_ he thought to himself with a tender smile displayed on his lips.

 

Harry’s grunt ripped him from his dreamlike state. It was a soft grunt and when Louis looked at him, he found Harry had turned his head in his direction, green eyes softly looking at him and arms outstretched as an invitation. Louis sighed before climbing in the bed next to Harry. Now, it was Louis who expanded his arms to welcome Harry in his embrace. Said man gladly accepted and nestled into Louis’s side, head lying on top of the smaller man’s chest, very similar to how they had positioned themselves on the couch earlier on. Louis’s left hand found a resting place in Harry’s chocolate locks, fingers weaving through soft hair. His right hand stopped on top of Harry’s left arm, which was slung around his torso. His fingers softly stroked over Harry’s skin before settling over his anchor tattoo, tracing its outlines in an endless motion.

 

‘Is this heaven?’ Louis thought. He wasn’t sure whether he actually believed in heaven (or an afterlife in general) but he figured that if there actually was a heaven, then it would be like this. This feeling, the endless and unconditional love he felt for Harry…it was the best thing in the entire world. But not only in this world, right? Even in afterlife, there just couldn’t be a feeling more divine and beautiful than the love he felt for this man. Impossible. If heaven actually was just like this…an endless evening with Harry pressed up against his side, head on his chest and arms and legs intertwined,… then he would never have to fear death ever again. He could die happily. Shit. Where were his thoughts taking him? Louis frowned as he realised how dark and twisted his train of thoughts had become. But it was not surprising at all, was it? Considering what fate might be awaiting him on the old playground in… _shit_ …in only three hours.

 

His eyes went wide at the thought of what was soon about to happen. Could happen. _Fuck_. He could still back out, though. He could simply stay here in their bed, with Harry sweetly slumbering in his arms. He didn’t have to go. Or did he? Shit. How did he manage to get himself in such a fucked up situation?

 

He let his gaze travel down to his chest where Harry’s head was comfortably nestled into his body. Judging by his breathing, he must have drifted off to sleep. Louis tested his assumption by quietly murmuring ‘Harry’ into his ear and softly pinching the inked skin beneath his fingertips. No reaction. He was out like a light. Louis let out a strangled sigh. So this was it then? He was going. Fuck he must be out of his mind. But he wasn’t doing this for himself! No! He was doing it for Harry, _his_ Harry.

 

He felt his stomach turn and twist in anticipation of what might and what might not be going to happen. His restlessness grew by the seconds and soon he couldn’t bear calmly lying around anymore. He carefully eased himself out from underneath Harry, making sure to steady the younger man’s head with his hand as its pillow (Louis’s chest) is slowly removing itself. Eventually, he lets Harry’s head sink into the actual fluffy pillow. A soft breath escapes Harry’s lips as he was being moved, but apart from that he didn’t show any signs of his sleep being disturbed at all. Good. _‘Sleep, Hazza. You need it. You deserve it.’_ Louis was now kneeling next to Harry, eyes roaming over the beautiful man’s body one last time before he got up and sneaked out of the room.

 

It was dark in the hallway which made looking for his vans and jacked just that much more difficult. Of course, he could have simply turned on the light but somehow he didn’t dare to do that. Was ts because he was worried that the brightness would wake Harry? No. Louis could simply shut the door to their bedroom. Problem solved. It was more like Louis didn’t think he deserved the amenity of light. I mean, he was fricking sneaking out of their house at night, leaving his sick boyfriend alone just to meet up with the very person who was responsible for putting Harry in this condition in the first place. Fuck. No, he really didn’t deserve the convenience of light. He deserved bumping into each and every corner and table leg. He deserved this pain, the discomfort. But wait. Didn’t he just tell himself a few minutes ago that he wasn’t doing it for himself? That he was doing this _for_ Harry? Yes, right! He wasn’t being self-righteous. He was doing this for Harry! But…. Just how exactly was Harry actually going to profit from this? What good will it do for him. Was he just deceiving himself into thinking that this was for Harry’s best? Shit.

 

Louis was so damn confused and… _uncertain_. How he hated the nagging sensation of uncertainty. He let his back slump against the cold stone wall of the hallway, his gaze lazily roaming around the narrow space until his eyes fixated on a clock on the opposite wall. 8.30 pm. _Crap_. Time was running out. He finally had to make up his mind. Unable to decide what to do, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket to look at the message again.

 

_‘Today, 11 pm, by the old playground_

_Come alone and no more fucking cops or else‘_

 

 _“Fucking sadistic lunatic”_ Louis hears himself whisper, voice seething with hatred for this man that almost killed the love of his life. And that was it. Looking at the message again, at the words typed out by this asshole James personally, caused something inside of Louis to snap. Suddenly, adrenalin was rushing through his body, causing his heart to pick up in pace. He felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble up in the pit of his stomach. It was hot as fire and cold as ice at the same time and it made his whole body shiver and his muscles twitch in anticipation. Suddenly, it was all decided. He was going. He was going to meet James and he was going to fucking claw his eyes out before choking the bastard to death.

 

Driven by an overwhelming urge for vengeance, Louis shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jacked before storming out of the front door.

 

_‘This is right. It’s what he deserves. I’m doing this for you, Harry.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI everyone! 
> 
> first of all I would like to sincerely apologize for not having updated in 2months. oh fuck wow that is a long time. I neither deserve your sweet comments and the kudos ;_; nor your loyalty ಢ_ಢ  
> I'm a shame to all fanfiction writers ◕︵◕  
> But let me tell you that the last few months have been an emotional roller coaster for me also because I FUCKING FINALLY GRATUATED FROM SCHOOL I mean wtf?!?!?! where did all the years go? Anyway... I feel so much better now and life seems a lot brighter. I hope it'll stay that way for a while longer:)
> 
> Secondly, if you are still sticking around, even after all this time, I would like to thank you! seriously you have no idea how much this means to me that you are still following my updates despite me being an unreliable dissapointment.¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> as always, feedback is greatly appreciated:)  
> Thanks for reading, you guys are awesome!(>'o’)> ♥ 


	12. Save Me

The icy wind tore mercilessly at his light clothes as he hastened down the pavement, asphalt gloomily illuminated by the yellow streetlights. He should have chosen a thicker jacked, but he hadn’t imagined it would be that cold so early in the year. It was only beginning of October, but the air was already chill with a real chance of frostbite, foreboding a harsh winter weather.

Wrapping his arms around his torso in a fruitless attempt to preserve his body heat, goosebumps littering his pale skin, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe this was a mistake after all. One hand found its way to his jean’s back pocket, fingers carefully slipping inside. When his appendages come in contact with cold metal, he felt a shiver make its way down his spine and this time it wasn’t because of the frosty wind. Stopping in the shadow between two neighbouring streetlights, he pulled out the object of his interest. A flick knife.

 

With a stare as icy as the wind, he reviewed the weapon. He had almost forgotten that he even was in possession of such a thing until it suddenly came to him in his wild fury. Mindlessly, he went to grab the knife before leaving the house to meet _him_. Well, not mindlessly. He knew exactly why he took it with him. What he intended to do with it. Now, though, standing in a saturnine ally, all alone and shivering from cold (and fear), holding the weapon in his dainty hand, this all just seemed like a terrible idea. He had been so determined to kill James that he hadn’t thought about how fucking insane the sheer thought of KILLING someone is. Even if it is James, the man who almost ended Harry’s precious life in a most painful way… Shit. There was this blind rage again. The desire to shove the sharp blade right into James’s chest. His grip tightened around the knife. ‘ _Kill him. Kill this fucking asshole.’_ something inside him growled.

A specially strong and icy gust of wind managed to bring him back to his senses. Eyes weary, he lowered his stiff shoulders a bit and loosened his hold around the hard metal again. Fuck. When did he turn into a psychotic murderer? Punishing James for what he had done seemed like the only reasonable thing to do when a shitload of adrenaline was rushing through his veins and when endless rage and lust for vengeance clouded his mind. But now that he actually stopped to think about it, he found that the consequences of his undertaking were so much worse than what he could gain from this. And that was the satisfaction of revenge. But in the end, it would all come back to bite him in his ass. In his nicely-curved bum. He would be a fucking murderer. He would get caught and convicted because he was not some hyper intelligent super villain who can erase all the evidence of his crimes and then just go on living his life as if nothing had happened. No, he would end up in jail for a long, _long_ time. Louis’s heart dropped at the thought of his family and friends bidding him farewell before he would be locked away: familiar faces, once full of love and affection, now staring at him with eyes full of sadness, anger, disappointment….and _disgust_. But by fare the one to suffer the most would be Harry, right? Harry, the person who had loved him since he was eighteen, the man who had promised to love him for the rest of his life. Louis knew that Harry meant it, _really meant_ it. But could he love a killer? Knowing Harry, he would probably hold on to the thought of Louis’s innocence, not wanting to, _not being able to_ accept that his fiancé, the man he had known and loved for such a long time, could actually end someone’s life in cold blood. He would cry himself to sleep every night thinking about his love, locked up in prison despite his ‘obvious innocence’. ‘

 

 _‘He would lose me. And that would destroy him.’_ Louis figured, tears burning in the corner of his deep blue eyes.

 

And even if he accepted that Louis was a murderer: that would fuck him up just as bad, wouldn’t it? Having the absolute certainty that the person you held most dear and whom you considered to be one of the nicest people in the world was actually a monster….well, if that didn’t ruin your ability to trust anybody ever again than I don’t know what could. Harry would be absolutely heartbroken, disappointed, shocked, sad, angry and disgusted. The idea that the memory of Louis’s face might sicken Harry made Louis squirm in mental agony.  

 

Truth be told, Louis didn’t really care about what would happen to himself if it only meant that he could get his revenge on James. But there was Harry… Louis can swing his sledgehammer all he wants. He’ll never gets to taste the bitterness of the full magnitude of the consequences of his action. The one to pick up the broken pieces, the one to life in the turmoil of Louis’s careless outburst, is going to be Harry. But it had always been like this, hadn’t it? Louis was the emotional, self-centred and insensitive tornado and Harry was the unshakable rock in the middle of the storm. Harry endured and accepted all Louis had to give him and in the end, he would still be the one to save Louis from himself whilst pretending that he was content with living in the midst of the chaos that was Louis’s existence.

 

He pressed his eyes shut, forcing a few salty tear drops to exit. Slowly, they made their way down his heated cheeks. Fuck. This was all so fucked up. An inner voice tells him, no _screams at him_ to turn around. _Turn around, go home, go back into bed with Harry. Just let it be. Go home. Got to sleep._ That sounded like a safe, sane alternative to his previous plan, didn’t it? Yeah, he should definitely do that. But he wouldn’t be Louis Tomlinson if he actually listened to that sane little voice. Instead he let the voice be drowned out by his heart beat. The thudding in his ears grew unbearably loud as his pulse accelerated even more. He was not going to kill James. He was not going to hurt him. (well except maybe a punch to the face if he got the chance to...) But, and damn his stubbornness and lack of self-preservation, but he was not going to pass up on an opportunity to look that motherfucker in the eyes and insult him with every bad word know to human kind.

 

With a much less psychotic plan in mind, he made to continue his way to the old playground. His frostbitten hands found shelter in his jacket’s pockets and he let out a visible breath as his feet picked up in pace. When his hand graced a familiar, rectangular object, an idea crossed his mind like a bolt of lightning. An idea which, for the first time today, was actually a _good, sensible idea_. He pulled out his phone with trembling hands, staring down at the smooth, black surface _. ‘I can record it. I can trick him into giving me a confession and record it!’_ Fuck yes! That was more like Louis. With new fond enthusiasm he practically sprinted through the darkness towards his destination.

 

Eventually, he turned a corner and found himself standing in front of a rusty swing. One of many relics of the once popular and maintained playground. Louis cautiously stepped closer to the squeaking assembly of metal, tracing his fingertips along the corroded chain holding the seat. The material would probably give in and break if anyone attempted to use it. He tore his gaze from this rusty disappointment of a swing and let it instead wander around the place. It was dark. With no streetlights or alight windows nearby, the only thing to illuminate the playground was the faint, white moonlight. Unnecessary to say, this didn’t exactly help to calm the storm of anxiety and fear currently raging inside of Louis. And furthermore, much to his disliking, (or maybe more to his liking?) he couldn’t make out any humanoid from. No one was here. A trembling index finger pressed down on the home button of his phone, screen lighting up immediately and successfully blinding Louis. After a few seconds of only brightness, Louis could make out the digits displayed on the screen. 11.06 pm. Shit. He was late. Had James already left because he thought Louis wasn’t going to show up? Fuck. Was it possible that Louis’s mental dilemma, his inner debate, had caused him to run late and, thus, made the mental dilemma redundant in the first place? _Oh fuck him._

 

As he went about putting his phone back into the pocket, fingers stiff from the chill, a pair of strong hands shoved him to the ground, phone slipping from his grip. He would probably have heard it hit the gravel if he hadn’t been too busy dealing with his assailant who was ruthlessly pressing him into the pebbly ground. He had landed face first, cheeks red and already bleeding because of the small, edgy stones burying themselves into his flesh. His wrist were pinned down to the left as well as to the right of his body, next his head. He hissed in pain when a hard knee pushed into his lower back, effectively keeping him in place. Panic spread through his mistreated body as he desperately tried to shake his offender off. But to no avail. Knee and untrimmed fingernails only pressed down harder as he struggled, thrusting his face even deeper into the edgy gravel.

 

“Get off me you fucking prick!” Louis squealed in agony. He wanted to scream, make other people in the vicinity aware of his dire need of rescue, but the air was slowly forced out of his lungs as the taller man pushed down on his body with all his weight. Fuck. He was going to die of suffocation even before this asshole got the chance to ….to do what exactly? Who was this fucking piece of shit manhandling him? Was he a rapist? _God please don’t let him be a rapist._

 

He knew his silent prayers had been heard when he recognised the man’s voice, low and menacing above him: “Shut the fuck up, asshole, or I’m going to stuff the gravel down your throat.”

 

 _James_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaanyyywayyy. I felt so bad for not having updated in such a long time that I figured that another chapter (longest so far! 1.8k words) was the least I could do to partially make up for it. (But don't expect me to keep this up haha)
> 
> Also, thank you so very much for the lovely comments and the kudos!  
> Feedback is always appreciated:)
> 
> on a side note: this fic is turning out a lot more angsty and scary(?) than I had intended it to. but I kinda like it and I hope you do to:)


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